I vote we stop hiding. A few fleeing half-insane refugees should help power us up. If we can somehow herd them into going to the next settlement we intend to raid instead of the town, even better.
-eating the terrified souls of the villagers, leaving an empty husk behind to do your bidding
-putting the finishing touches on the destruction of the village; knock down the remaining walls, tear up the foundations, and infuse the area with a dark aura
And
-Corrupt the dreams of those in the basement
Leave the ones in the basement alive. Let them think they're safe. They'll leave 'safety' eventually, and see the destruction we wrought. We'll slowly kill two in front of them, and let our new slaves beat the others to the point where they can barely make it to the nearest settlement.
Plus more Amberärshs.
The survivors huddle in the cellar, not even daring to light a candle lest they summon your demonic wrath upon them. They are all family, of course; everyone in this hamlet was family, either by blood or by law (or in a few cases both, but who are you to judge). An old man, pushing 50, who was able to escape thanks to his military experience and his solid leather boots- a well-aimed kick will put an Amberärsh out of action for a few seconds. A young woman, new to the village, desperately in love with her new husband, and extremely distraught with the fact that he is not in the cellar with them. A mother and father, and their two children- a boy and a girl. Together they huddle, as howls of pain and anguish echo above them, and loud crashes signal the destruction of anything the fire left standing. A particularly loud crash indicates the house above being collapsed upon them; yet the cellar holds, and the stones fell just so that the cellar door could still be opened a crack.
For three nights they stay in the cellar, though they cannot tell, for day and night are indistinguishable in the darkness, as is wake and sleep; the howls and destruction they hear whilst they wake they see first hand in their dreams; again and again they watch their friends burn, or be ripped apart. Eventually dreams encroach even on their waking hours, and it becomes difficult to distinguish between reality and fiction. At some point, the woman dreamt that her cellar-mates were monsters, and it took all their combined strength to tie her up so she would not cut their throats as they slept.
But after spending three nights in the cellar, the dreams seemed to abate somewhat, and no more noises could be heard outside. Cautiously they pushed open the cellar door, displacing the thankfully light chunks of masonry that had fallen upon it. As they clambered out of the cellar and onto the ruins of their home, they wailed in despair.
Their entire village was destroyed. The ground was naught but ash, from which rose the occasional clutter of masonry. Upon sharpened stakes were impaled several of their friends; burnt, scarred, and with rictus of terror forever upon their faces; some missing legs or arms, which lay on the ground below, gnawed at by monsters. An aura of death permeated the air, making them shiver even in the warm spring breeze.
And then there arose from the ashes creatures. Not those of the night before, no, but similar- except that these specters haunted the bones of their beloved dogs. The creatures snarled and snapped at them, herding them towards the center of the village. There awaited eight of their friends- alive, but not well. Horribly scarred and burnt; some missing limbs, or other body parts, yet all smiling vacantly, staring straight ahead and humming a tune.
The woman screams, and hurls herself at one of the slaves. She beats on his chest and calls his name, kisses his blistered lips, stares into his vacant eyes, yet the man does not react. She falls to the ground, clutching his legs, crying and calling his name. The other survivors look away, tears in their eyes.
Then the slaves start to move. Awkwardly (especially so in the case of on dragging along a woman), they begin to dance around the firepit, and with beautiful, childlike voices- which contrast terribly against their scarred visages- sing;
"Fire, fire,
build-a-pyre.
Wait for the Tall Man
and-say-his-name"
The survivors huddle together (even more). They back towards the fire pit, then jump away when it spontaneously bursts into flame- an evil, blue fire. The slaves dance a little faster, limbs akwardly spinning in all directions.
"Fire, fire,
rising-higer.
Now name the Tall Man
Krln-kir-Yrl-vnt "
And as usual, you arise from the fire. You swipe at the survivors with your tail, slicing the two parents in half. The crying children kneel down before their parents, who make them promise to be good before you grasp their entrails and pull so hard their tongues retract. You eat them slowly, projecting their feelings to the other four, so that they know that even when you have eaten all but the head, they are still capable of feeling fear and pain.
You then have your slaves beat the remaining survivors, whilst you assault their minds until the very brink of insanity. When they are at the brink of breaking, both physically and mentally, you take one in each hand, spend a little power to ensure their survival, then throw them out of the village with all your might.
Then, finally, you are alone. Gods. That was. AWESOME. Worship? Sex? Neither of them has anything on this. This is what being a demon is about. Worship is just a means to an end. THIS. IS. DEMONHOOD.
YOU ARE NOW READY TO
-TAKE ON THE WOOOORLD
*
Name: Krlnkir Yrlvnt
Physical might: 20 (+1 Omnomnom) (+6 DEMONHOOD) (-2 Summoning)
Mental might: 20
(-1 Worry) (+3 Omnomnom) (+6 DEMONHOOD) (-2 Summoning)
Other: Feeling ready to TAKE ON THE WORLD
Followers: 6
Slaves: 8
Servants: 16 (16 Amberärshs) (8 Amberärshs at half price due to the evil generated by the hamlet's destruction)
Cults:
The cult of the Tall Man. Low organisation. 6 (12) members in 1 village.
Power level: 5 -2 spent watching over your unborn child -1 spent worshipping you
Resources: 0
Champions:
Unborn Half Demon: estimated 8.25 months till birth.
Author
Topic: Demonhood. -Slumbering for an indeterminate number of Strange Aeons- (Read 237829 times)